


Dancing Lesson

by Madtom_Publius



Series: Dance [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6618364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madtom_Publius/pseuds/Madtom_Publius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John discovers Alexander doesn't know how to dance in a ballroom, decides to put his rich boy pedigree to good use, and immediately regrets every single decision he has ever made in his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Originally authored by Madtomedgar.   
> Originally posted: http://madtomedgar.tumblr.com/post/136590830837/ok-heres-my-first-attempt-at-musicalhamilton-fic
> 
> Please tell me if anything about this is in any way disrespectful or otherwise incorrect.

It wasn’t that Laurens meant to take his privileged upbringing for granted, or that he intended to slight those who had not been so blessed, especially not his closest friend. It was just that sometimes, more often than not really, he spoke or acted without thinking, without considering the feelings of others and the effects his words or deeds would have on them, and he had yet to shake his unfortunate assumption that his experiences were universal. And so, once again, before it even occurred to him to try to stop himself, he blurted “Wait, you’ve  _never_ done this before? How is that possible?” His voice was rich with incredulous humor.

Hamilton, meanwhile, found absolutely nothing to laugh at in his lack of experience. Testily, he replied “Not everyone’s boyhood included situations in which such an accomplishment would be necessary. Besides, it gives me more opportunity to become acquainted with the ladies who are left out of such amusements. And I can tell you they are _most grateful._ ” If John was going to flaunt his breeding and subsequent social graces, Alexander saw no reason to hesitate in reminding him that those graces did nothing to even the playing field between them when it came to successes with the ladies. He glared at John, hoping he could beetle his brows enough to cow him. It always rankled when John made the difference in their statuses felt, and this was Alexander’s least favorite manifestation of it.

The boyish playfulness retreated quickly from Laurens’ face as he realized he’d done it again, been an inconsiderate ass again, hurt his friend’s feelings again. His earnest dark eyes filled with chagrin as he tried to explain himself. “No, I… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, it’s… it wasn’t… I just thought…” Alexander had to remind himself that he was still irked at Laurens. It was so easy to forget that sort of thing when he was so sweetly flustered. “I could teach you?” The bizarre mixture of fear and hopefulness which had lately been appearing on John’s face when they were together overtook his expression as he made the suggestion.

Well. Perhaps Alexander would let him charm his way out of that insult after all. Still struggling to maintain his stern demeanor, he relented with a show of reluctance “I suppose that will be an acceptable apology. But I will not tolerate such aspersions again.” He stood up from his desk and moved to join John. “How do we begin?”

Laurens stammered and looked away. He pulled his hair tighter in its queue as a way of tightening his own resolve. “Well,” he said, his nervous eyes giving him away, “I suppose… it would make the most sense for me to take the girl’s part so that you…” He trailed off and then sighed again, collecting himself to some semblance of the commanding attitude he used around the men and stepped closer so that they were only inches apart. “Alright, place your right arm around my upper back. Your hand should rest between my shoulder blades… you don’t need to be so ginger about it, I am not made of glass and neither are any of the young ladies whom you will in future partner. Good. Left hand like so.” He demonstrated, and then once Hamilton’s hand was appropriately positioned, took it in his own. “This is the main form of it… the “attention” of the dance, if you will.”

Now it was Alexander’s turn to be flustered. Perhaps it was the romantic connotation of their stance that had his heart fluttering in his chest so unexpectedly, for they’d shared brotherly company before with little issue. And of course they’d flirted before. And had conversations he considered most intimate. And now, cliché as it was, it all added up. Which led to the overwhelming question, “Now what?”

Thankfully, Laurens (willfully or in innocence) interpreted that question to refer to his lesson. “Now, ah… well, you’re going to lead eventually, but for now just… just pay attention and follow where I try to put you. It’s a three-step. I know you can follow a tune but I’m going to just count out because… well I wouldn’t want to inflict my voice upon you.” He counted them off and then began to backlead, Hamilton following at first jerkily and anxious not to step on his friend’s feet, but rapidly catching on. Compared to drilling, this was child’s play.

“I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

“Alright,” said Laurens, halting them. “I’ll count off again, and this time, you lead. And look at my eyes. It’s impolite to look at your partner’s feet.” Immediately after he’d counted them off, John regretted the second instruction. First of all, Alexander was proving to be an excellent dancer. Secondly, there was something about the confident way he moved, almost brash, but just too considerate and sincere to quite earn that appellation, and something about the fact that this not-quite-brash style was being employed on him, and that he was allowing it. Third, and most dangerous, Laurens could not keep that something off of his own face, on which was fixed his friend’s burning gaze. He wanted the floor to swallow him up, wanted to go back and stop himself from making such a perilous suggestion in the first place, anything to stop him from wanting his partner to keep going, to draw him closer, anything to keep his knees from going weak like some silly girl… he hadn’t even realized he’d stopped counting. Not that it mattered. Of course Alexander maintained the dance perfectly.

“Like that?” Hamilton asked, neither stopping the dance nor breaking eye contact. He didn’t really need to ask. From the rapt look on Laurens face (how lovely) he knew he was doing well. He just wanted to hear it confirmed and wanted to see John’s composure crack further. His displays of nerves were most charming and, it seemed, caused by a similar realization to the one that had struck Alexander. Only John had no idea what to make of it. Poor fellow, this was likely all very new to him. Well. If there was one thing Alexander knew how to do it was push.

“Yes.” John choked out.

“Now what?” Hamilton asked again, a dare, an invitation, an exit if desired (though he doubted that).

Laurens swallowed hard. “Usually at some point you spin your partner.”

Having done something similar in the less formal dancing he’d done before, Alexander could extrapolate. He lifted the hand which held John’s and pushed lightly on his back to twirl him. A slight miscalculation of force resulted in Laurens being pressed much closer to him when they returned to the standard position than the chaste several inches which had separated then before. They were so close and Alexander knew he should pull back at least a little, he should drop his hands entirely and thank his friend for the lesson and go back to his work and pretend everything was normal and nothing had happened, ever, between them of unusual note. But his arms felt as if they’d been magneted to Laurens, and he didn’t know how to separate himself from such sweet and tortuous anticipation (of what?) and God forgive him he didn’t want to. So instead he said again “Now what?”

It was too much. The feeling of Alexander’s leg pressing against his, of their torsos pressing against each other, of his arm firmly around his back, their clasped hands, it was all too much. It felt so simply good, warm and comforting like a thick familiar blanket on a cold night, yet terrifying and unknown, and that came with its own illicit thrill. What John had meant to say was “I think you’ve got the hang of it.” Somehow by the time he managed to get the words passed his faltering lips they’d turned into “A dip.”

Resting Laurens’ weight in his arm, Hamilton pressed them down and then held them in place. “Like this?” he asked again. Laurens nodded, his curls bouncing endearingly with the action. They were so close. Less than an inch away from a kiss. They could shed all pretension so easily. The prospect was exhilarating and petrifying, and all the headlong daring that normally would have resolved such uncertainty for either of them had fled. So Alexander asked once more, “Now what?”

Laurens shuddered, swearing he could feel the electricity in the infinitesimal space between their mouths. He wanted to say “Now we kiss,” wanted to say nothing and jump straight to the action, wanted to hear the surprised noise Alexander would make when he did, but he couldn’t. Not yet, not like this, not with the last rays of the sun filtering into their room to make his dear friend look even more handsome and expose his own actions so fully to himself. Laurens tried to move back just enough to break the spell, but unbalanced himself and fell to the floor. He put a hand up to stay Alexander, who was already scrambling to make sure he was alright. He couldn’t look at him, and he could feel his whole face to the tips of his ears burning. “Now we should get back to work.”


End file.
